


50 reasons Arthur & Eames used to have sex

by serraketo



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 50 reasons to have sex, Attempted Seduction, Bathroom Sex, Birthday Sex, Cycling, Dick in a Box, Domestic Bliss, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Humour, Kama Sutra, Kitchen Sex, M/M, PWP, Seduction, Semi-Public Sex, Sex is the best way to break in a new apartment, Sex on a Car, Sharing Body Heat, Train Sex, shaved legs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serraketo/pseuds/serraketo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When charm and plain old sexual attraction don't work... any excuse will do.<br/>(A.K.A. The one where Arthur & Eames use any reason they can think of to get in each other's pants with varying success rates)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Because you can't get to sleep

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fifty Good Reasons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/360811) by [mistyzeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyzeo/pseuds/mistyzeo). 



Eames huffed again as he threw off the flimsy blanket and tried to burrow into the thin mattress of the sleeper car. Sleeping on trains was high up on his list of 'Shit I never want to have to do again', right along with being shot, stabbed, losing a game of poker with the Russian Mafia boss and winning a game of poker with the Russian Mafia boss. He'd protested wildly at the idea of taking an overnight train to Dusseldorf, but as always, his protestations, bargaining and shameful begging were ignored by Arthur as he was all but pushed onto the train. 

So, here he was, at 2am (or was it 3am? Eames could never be sure what happened during timezone changes), the only one awake in their stiflingly small cabin, tossing and turning like the princess with the bloody fucking pea and no longer giving a damn about the fact that Arthur was underneath him and had a reputation for being the lightest sleeper known to dreamshare (which, let's be honest, was really saying something).

He didn't spare a thought for the point man until 5 minutes later when, while punching the pillow into a different fluffy shape that might better suit his head, Eames heard the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked, and a familiar-shaped pressure through the mattress underneath him. 

"Eames. I will shoot you if you don't stop moving around. Please don't think this is one of our funny give and take moments, because you know I value my sleep more than your life."

Eames suddenly found he couldn't move at all, his brain recalling all the times Arthur had shot someone just because he hadn't slept well the night before. 

"Excellent. I'm glad we understand each other, Mr. Eames. Stay completely still like that and you'll wake up in the morning."

The sound of the safety being flicked back on gave Eames only a moments reprieve - as he relaxed, he became astutely aware of the bar in his back. Knowing moving was not and option and would result in Ariadne and Yusef being woken by a gunshot (not to mention the messy cleanup after - how human blood manages to get EVERYWHERE regardless of the size of the wound, he did not know) he only allowed himself a slight whimper before whispering, "Arthur?"

"Oh, for the love of-" There was a scramble as Arthur pulled himself out of his bunk and stood up next to it, eyes level with Eames' as he lay on the pillow. "Jesus, Eames. If I jerk you off will you go to sleep and _stop fucking moving_?"

It took Eames a moment to recover from this surprising offer. "Erhm... once again, love?"

"Or _toss you off_ , whatever the English call it. _Will it shut you up_?"

Eames couldn't make himself answer. Here was Arthur, with sleep-mussed hair, creases on his face from his pillow, dressed only in a soft pair of flannel pants (and wasn't that surprising? Arthur was always the last one to bed and the first one up, so no one else had ever seen the exact creamy shade his pale skin was in the moonlight trickling through the window blinds), now hurriedly pushing a hand into Eames' own pajamas, grasping his cock firmly and eliciting a sharp gasp. 

Arthur was frowning slightly as he began to run his grip up and down, firm, but not yet enough, just working to get Eames as hard as he could, as quickly as he could. "Can't believe I'm doing this for you... like a fucking child... can't even sleep on a fucking train..." muttering streams of complaints, he kept up his rhythm as Eames' hips started moving up into his grasp. 

"Arthur, darling." Eames bit out between his own thrusts. "Not that I don't love your voice, but maybe complaining isn't the best way to get this over and done with?"

Arthur's hand stilled and Eames could feel hot fury rolling off the younger man. "I will NOT be talking dirty to you. Understood?"

"Okay, okay. Just a suggestion."

Arthur retaliated by squeezing his hard cock (shit, when had that happened?) just a tad tighter. "Just shut up, hurry up and fucking come, Eames." Pausing only to remove his hand and spit on it, Arthur started moving his hand faster, the sticky wet noises seeming to reverberate around the small cabin and he thanked his lucky stars that both Yusef and Ariadne slept with iPods in. 

Eames was breathing heavily through his nose, resisting the urge to bite his hand to hold back the moans that were going to be ripped out of him soon, but before he could try and grab the pillow to put over his face, Arthur had added a twist of his wrist to each stroke at his head and _sod it if that wasn't the most amazing move Eames had ever felt_.

"Almost done?" Arthur's breathy whisper was closer to his ear than Eames remembered him being, hot moisture tickling the fine hairs there. Eames nodded as he moaned again. 

"Close. GOD, close."

Without warning, the train's emergency brakes engaged and the entire train was jolted forward, inertia forcing Arthur headfirst into Eames' face and behind him, Yusef and Ariadne were dumped from their own beds with twin cries. Eames yelled out with his orgasm as Arthur instinctively gripped him tighter, struggling to retain any semblance of balance. 

It took a moment for the chaos and confusion to wear off, Arthur slid down the bunks onto the floor where Ariadne and Yusef were putting themselves to rights, both breathing heavily. Eames gave one last weary groan before rolling over to preserve what little dignity he had left. 

Ariadne was the first to put together a full sentence. "Arthur... do you have semen on your wrist?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written porn before and am not entirely confident of my ability, so while there may be sex, there will also be lots of 'failure to launches' and a few off-screen sex scenes.
> 
> Oh, and there is no sense of continuity here. Some will be pre-movie, some will be post, some will be established relationship, others will be a dirty, random lay in absolutely no order whatsoever.


	2. It's getting a little hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One car. Two international dreamshare criminals. A breakdown. No mechanical skills. 
> 
> Of course sexy time ensues.

Arthur and Eames were stranded. 

This wasn't exactly a new phenomenon in their lives. Stranded at an airport, sure. Stranded in a country after a not-quite-legal way of getting out had fallen through, yeah, that had happened a few times. 

But stuck in the middle of the desert after a car breakdown? That's a first. 

Arthur sighed again as he sat back against the dark leather seat, fanning himself with the fold up map he'd tucked into his knapsack. "So. This is romantic."

Eames undid another button as he shot Arthur a look, his dark aviator glasses sliding slightly in the sweat on his nose. "I called Triple A, darling. They said they'd be here as soon as they can, but in the meantime sit tight. There could be coyotes in the area."

"Don't be ridiculous, Eames. Coyotes are nocturnal."

"I think you'll find they come out whenever they bloody feel like, Arthur, and I don't fancy tempting them with my luscious physique." Eames leaned forward, draping arms over the steering wheel and resting his head on them. He groaned on a deep exhale. "This was supposed to be a lovely day hiking and enjoying the fresh air."

Arthur snorted delicately, tendrils of sweat-soaked hair getting in his eyes again. "Well, that was your first problem. Dreamsharers shouldn't be exposed to fresh air."

Eames grunted and the pair lapsed into silence. Another ten minutes passed as they listened to the drone of thousands of desert cicadas. 

Suddenly, Eames sat up straight and stared at Arthur. "Arthur, darling?"

Arthur's reply was muffled from underneath the blanket he'd thrown over his head in an attempt to hide from the sun. "What bright idea do you have now, Eames? Shall I start walking back to the nearest town in my Bottega Veneta boots? And before you dignify that with an answer, please know they cost me twelve hundred dollars."

"Firstly, no boots should ever cost that much. It's against the laws of masculinity. And secondly, I wasn't going to suggest that, I was just about to casually mention that you have experience in mechanics."

The corner of the blanket whipped Eames in the face as Arthur threw it off himself and fixed the other man with his most disgusted glare. "I have experience in the mechanics of a Pasiv, Eames. I am not... _an auto mechanic_." His face twisted into a grimace as he spat out the last few words, as though they had personally insulted his mother's honour. 

"Oh, come on," Eames persisted. "A tube is a tube and a gear is a gear. Surely your quick mind would be able to give it a good shot?"

"And I repeat... I AM NOT AN AUTO MECHANIC."

Eames smiled his brightest winning smile, the one he used to use on little old ladies with big old trust funds. "Go on, love. Try it. You should know by now that arguing with me is pointless because you adore my cheeky British arse."

Arthur hesitated for a moment, pouting slightly in his endearing way while going over his options. "Fine." He spat. "But don't you _dare_ make any comments about me bending over the hood of the car, or I _will_ shoot you. My gun is in easy reach. Now pop the fucking bonnet." He reached around to unbuckle his seatbelt and flung himself out of the car, trying his hardest to ignore Eames' giggling. 

Considering Arthur's exit from the car and the sheer amount of hate he had for the sun on a regular, not-stranded-in-the-desert day, Eames decided it wisest to remain inside as long as he could, but after another hour of Arthur clunking around and swearing, he couldn't resist and snuck out as quietly as he was able. 

Luckily for him, Arthur's attention was in the back corner of the opposite side of the car and he didn't notice the forger as he walked around to take in the view (and possibly take a quick snap on his phone, for posterity's sake). Unfortunately though, Arthur chose that moment to groan in a particular way - the only way they'd found so far that almost literally sent blood running southward - and wiggle as he attempted some fix on the car.

The reaction was instantaneous and almost Pavlovian in it's effects - Arthur's tight, designer cargo pants-clad bottom swayed back and forth, and Eames found himself sporting an impressive tenting in his own less-expensive pants. 

He weighed his options for a minute or two, trying in vain to disguise the awkward bulge, but Arthur was _right there_ and _wiggling_ and _swearing_ and FUCK if that didn't get Eames' gears grinding. 

So he did the last thing he could think of. Eames stepped forward, putting both hands on Arthur's narrow hips, and leaned forward into him, grinding his erection into firm buttocks. 

Arthur's spine stiffened immediately. "Eames," he murmured, warning clear in his voice. "What did I say about bending over the hood?"

Eames leaned in over him, putting his lips close to Arthur's delicate ear and whispering in his most seductive tone. "Darling, I've no intention of making any lewd comments right now..."

He began a gentle rhythm of thrusting, feeling Arthur's tension drain out of him. Eames trailed one hand up to the younger man's chin, tilting his head for a long, filthy kiss. "Now, love. All thoughts of that gun away, yes?"

Arthur nodded, mouth left hanging open as he started to move in time with Eames, the friction of movement behind them causing fabric to shift and stir his own erection. 

"Good. Because frankly, it's getting a little hard to focus on anything that's not your arse at the moment. Pun intended."

Arthur groaned again, pushing back with his ass and unbuckling his pants to allow Eames' wandering hand access. Their kiss abruptly broke off as Eames slid his hand down and in, rubbing in the most delicious way. "Oh, _Gooood_..." He trailed off on a long moan, dropping his head back to Eames' shoulder where it was immediately peppered with kisses. "Eames... like that... yeah..."

Eames smiled to himself as he drove his cock harder into the cleft of Arthur's ass, his hand finally wrapping around Arthur's hard cock and stroking tightly enough to draw a sharp hiss into his ear. He worked Arthur fast, his other hand resting on the point man's stomach, stroking underneath the material of his shirt and pushing back into his own tight belly. 

"Fuck, yeah. Eames, like that.... just like that...ohh..."

Eames huffed a little laugh this time. "Christ but you're easy to please. No one would guess this was my brilliant idea, not from the way you're gagging for it."

"Mmm... 'm close, Eames... _Eames!_ " Arthur's grip tightened on the car's hood as his breath hitched and he spilled over Eames' hand, hot and sticky. It took a few minutes for his breath to start to resemble a normal rhythm, Eames leisurely continuing his grinding and nipping gently at Arthur's neck. 

"Eames?"

"Mmm?"

"We have to stop."

"Ohhhh, no we don't darling. That's hardly fair, is it?"

"We can sort out fair later, Eames. Triple A is here."

"........ _fuck_."


	3. Your friend told you about a new position

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't surprise Arthur during sex. Just don't.

"OW!"

"No, just-"

"Ow... FUCKING OW, EAMES! GET OFF!"

"Okay, okay, hang on."

Arthur grunted as Eames rolled off him, allowing his legs to drop back to the bed. He rolled onto his side and glared at the forger. "Do I look like a fucking Pilates master?"

Eames sighed. "Well, darling-"

"Eames."

"Fine. No, you don't." Eames drawled, rolling his eyes. "You look like a hardened killing machine who always has a weapon concealed on him, even when he's naked as the day he was born."

Arthur smirked just a tad, clearly pleased with this answer. "Exactly. So when did you decide that I could be folded like a cooked spaghetti?"

"You see, I was talking to Yusuf the other day-"

"DON'T tell me you were discussing our sex life with Yusuf, or I WILL shoot you."

"Of course not, we were discussing his sex life..."

"And comparing it with ours?"

"... slightly."

Arthur huffed his disapproval.

"Anyway Arthur, he's got a new girlfriend who's quite the dab hand at the Kama Sutra, and he told me about this new position that, when done right, can truly make you see stars during your orgasm." He leered at Arthur, reaching over to stroke a finger down the younger man's nose. 

Arthur swatted him away. "Two things. One, I was serious about shooting you if you ever mention sex with me in a conversation with Yusuf again. And two, I will also shoot you if you try and fold me into a pretzel without my approval ever again. Just try asking me, hmm?"

Eames nodded. "Fair terms, I suppose, darling. So let's try this again, shall we?"

_**Twenty minutes later**_

"Oh yeah... right there. There... Eames.... Wait, WHAT ARE YOU...."

"Arthur, just relax and let me-"

"JESUS! WHERE THE FUCK IS MY GUN?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A short one this time. I'm getting my mojo back after a month of hell at work, apologies!)


	4. To break in a new apartment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eames has found the perfect apartment, but he can't move in until it's been tested for it's suitability for *ahem* activities.

The front door burst open as two men stumbled through it, as wrapped around each other as it was possible to be without reverting to full-on octopus mode. Eames stumbled forward as he flicked his foot backward, slamming the door shut with a noise that echoed through the almost-empty apartment. Arthur stepped out of Eames' reach for a moment as he caught his balance, looking around the bright, open space of the living area. 

"Clean, minimalist lines. Well-suited to some simple modern art pieces on that wall," he guestured "and over by the window."

"So then?"

"Mr Eames. Thus far, I am impressed." Arthur's smile twisted wickedly as he shucked his jacket and started jerking his tie loose. 

"Good. Now get here, you gorgeous bastard."

\-------------------------

Arthur rolled over Eames as he snatched his shirt and tugged it back on. 

"Oi, don't leave a mess in the living room!" 

Rolling his eyes, Arthur shot a withering glance back at Eames. "One used condom does not a mess make, Eames." He stepped to his feet with remarkable grace for a man who'd just been for a delightful tussle on the bare wooden floor. "Besides, I want to see the rest of the place."

"Excellent!" Eames grinned widely, standing up and moving alongside Arthur, tucking an arm around his waist to steer him towards the north. "This, darling, is the study."

Arthur nodded to himself as he walked vaguely around the room. "You're right, this desk is you to a tee. Especially in this room."

Eames gazed around the deep burgundy of the walls fondly. "Yes, feel free to take back all those ridiculous comments about antiques being sorely overrated anytime now."

"No. It only works in this exact room, I think." Arthur hummed quietly and tapped an elegant finger to his lips as he spun around to face Eames. "Old as it is, can you guarantee it's sturdiness?"

"Oh, pet." Eames wolf whistled at Arthur, who leaned back against the mahogany desk. "Allow me to blow you mind."

\-------------------------

"So," Arthur poked Eames sharply in the ribs, earning him a disgruntled groan. "You still haven't shown me the bedroom. And growing up around Hollywood taught me from a young age that that's 'where the magic happens'."

"Funny, and here I thought we'd just managed to make magic in the living room AND the study."

"Unacceptable. Be a good host and finish the tour."

Eames sighed as he got to his feet and pulled Arthur up behind him. "Okay, love." He walked briskly into the bathroom down the hall, white walls reflecting the light from the opaque window, and glass shower gleaming in the late afternoon sun. "Here's where we will spend many a time washing up after our numerous love-making sessions."

"Sex, Eames. We don't make love, we have sex like wild, manly beings of the Earth."

"Whatever you say, darling." Eames wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Fancy a wash now? We've worked up quite the sweat."

There was a pause, before Arthur strode quickly out of the bathroom. "No," he called over his shoulder. "I don't like bathrooms that don't have bath mats yet."

\-------------------------

Eames caught up with the younger man as he admired the bedroom, the only room in the house to have been almost completely furnished. 

"These are nice." Arthur nodded appreciatively at the silver-grey duvet on the bed which complemented the soft blue walls nicely. "Do me on them?"

"Your wish is my command, pet."

\-------------------------

"Surely there can't be THAT many more rooms in this apartment." Arthur sat up against the headboard and rolled his head back. 

Eames said nothing, just breathed heavily at him and Arthur snapped his attention back to the Brit. "Wait, seriously?"

"No, love. There's just the kitchen left."

Sighing, Arthur looked around for a single piece of clothing he could cover himself up with. Remembering the past few hours of exploring the house, he threw up his hands in defeat and flung himself out of bed. "Come on then, let's get it over with!"

Amusement crept into his eyes as he followed Arthur out of the room. "Sweeter words have never been spoken, Arthur. No wonder I fell for you."

\-------------------------

Eames ran a hand through his sweaty, bristly hair as he leaned back against the stove and stared at Arthur. The younger man was precariously balanced draped half on and half off the kitchen counter, breathing heavily. 

"Enough is enough, Arthur, darling. I think the apartment has performed _admirably_ in it's endeavours to prove it can house the likes of us AND we've run out of rooms, unless you count the linen cupboard as a particularly enticing location for a quick boink."

From the counter, Arthur only grunted. Then a faint twinkle from the ground caught Eames' eyes and he frowned.

"Arthur? You were paid this week, yes?"

"Y-yeah?" Arthur pants out.

"Good. Then you can afford to replace my bloody blender!" Eames snatched up his shirt from the ground and stormed out of the room. "See yourself out, Arthur, I'm going to bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I'm concerned, these guys have the refactory period of fifteen year olds. Just go with it?


	5. Just shaved legs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short text message ficlet because I'm lazy but still want to feel like I've achieved something today...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's messages are in _italics_ , Eames' are in **bold**. Because reasons.

March 15, Mid-afternoon

**darling im bored**

_I'm busy. Find something to do._

**weve been in portland for weeks. theres nothing to do here.**

_I am elbow deep in damaged PASIV and I don't fancy having to fix it again when I slip with a screwdriver because you've sent me another text message. Go to a bar, find someone else to bother and find SOMETHING TO DO._

**youre no fun darling.**

 

March 15, Evening

_Eames, it was your turn to make dinner. Where are you?_

**found something to do. busy. make your own dinner arthur.**

 

March 16, Morning

_Should I be concerned that you're still not home?_

**nope. still busy. home later today.  
  
**

March 16, Evening

_Came home, still no you. There is a bicycle though. A red one with a ridiculous basket on it. New hobby?_

**yes. fun one too. im getting fit and healthy arthur.**

_Don't be an asshole. You were always fit._

**you say such sweet things. will be home soon, just had to pop out to buy a new gear thingy for the bike.**

_'Gear thingy'? Is that a technical term?_

**yes.**

 

March 18, Morning

**sorry i had to leave you in bed love. went for a ride with the crew.**

_There's a crew now? As in, more than one of you who goes cycling?_

**we wouldn't be a cycle gang with less than 4 darling.**

_Please tell me you don't own matching leather jackets that go over your bike pants._

**fine i wont. i also wont tell you that our official mascot is a black panther.**

_You're ridiculous._

**yet you still let me put my cock in you.**

_For reasons of insanity, apparently._

 

March 20, Midday

**you know im rather disappointed that you havent asked me about the most obviously important part of cycling.**

_The part where you develop weird calluses on your ass from the uncomfortable seat?_

**no.**

_Or the one where your sperm count is down because you're constantly sitting on your penis?_

**no.**

_... Okay. Please, Eames. Tell me what the most important part of cycling is?_

**cyclists shave their legs arthur.**

_... And?_

**its quite a delightful feeling.**

_I'm at work, Eames._

**all soft and silky.**

_Seriously, I'm working. Ariadne is struggling with the second level. I have to stay with her._

**those ridiculous high thread count sheets you bought positively slide across my thighs.**

_Eames, please._

**im just sitting here running my hands all over my legs. didnt wear pants today felt like just lazing about feeling like some kind of well paid gigolo.**

_I'll feel them tonight, okay? I promise. Just stop this now, please._

**i think youll like the feeling of these shaven beauties wrapping around you as you plunge into me over and over again...**

_..._

**_... pet?_ **

_I'm on my way home. Stay naked. Find the strawberry body butter, you're going to go to sleep tonight with the softest skin imaginable._

**way ahead of you love.**


	6. To prove we're not in a rut.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur & Eames take a break between jobs.

"Eames? Are you alright?" 

Eames sighed into his phone as he perused the bakery section of Sainsbury's. "Darling, it's been two months since we were last on a job? How many times will I have to call you just to see what you want for dinner before you stop assuming I'm calling because I'm about to be killed?" 

"At least another month or so." 

Regarding a crusty loaf that was probably a soft loaf yesterday, Eames huffed humourlessly. "Very funny. What's the plan tonight?" 

"Gilmore Girls has just been released on Netflix. If we start as soon as you get home, I'm thinking we could get through at least half a season tonight. Get whatever you feel like for dinner, but can you pick up some popcorn?" 

Eames chuckled. "Of course, love. But only because your love of ridiculous mother-daughter sitcoms amuses me to no end. Be home soon." He locked his phone and headed for the snack aisle. 

2 months. It had been two months since their last job together, the one that ended with Arthur in a coma in hospital (again) and Eames forging marriage papers so he could be allowed in the ICU to visit (again). When he'd finally woken up, Arthur had declared that they needed time off - no more jobs until the heat had died down and all wounds had been recovered from. So they'd packed their necessaries and moved into Eames' cosy old flat in London and what started as just a few weeks off, had turned into a comfortable routine for the two. Arthur still conducted research during the day and Eames pulled smaller paperwork forging jobs for his less-than-savoury friends he caught up with for pints every few days. 

Come to think of it... it really was a routine. Mondays Arthur was at the library while Eames cleared up around the flat. Tuesdays were fish & chips nights (complete with mushy peas, which Eames had declared cheerfully and forced Arthur to go along with each week). Wednesdays they caught up on the latest movies at the cinema. Thursday was watching the latest episode of Grey's Anatomy (which Arthur secretly loved and had earned Eames plenty of death threats as he tried to talk through vital plotpoints). Friday was pints with the boys. Saturday was British Breakfast Fry Up Day (much to Arthur's disgust) and Sundays were sleep in, do the Sunday crossword and bake some kind of baked good, which may or may not last beyond that evening. 

Eames stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh, shit."

\-------------------------------------------- 

"Arthur. Do you feel like we're in a rut?" 

Arthur looked up from his spot on the couch. He dragged his attention away from the screen where the Gilmores were enjoying a family dinner and stared at Eames quizzically. "A rut?" 

"Like, there's no action in our lives anymore." 

Sitting up, Arthur fixed him with an exasperated look. "We agreed to this and if you're not happy-" 

"No, Arthur, not jobs." Eames ran a hand through his hair. "I mean... when was the last time we had spontaneous sex? Or one of us seduced the other? For the past month at least, your version of foreplay has become 'take your pants off'." 

"I've not heard you complain. Besides, that's about as romantic as 'I fancy a shag, grab the lube and let's get going.'." 

"Hey now," Eames threw up his hands in protest. "That was once, and you know I was-" 

"I remember." 

"Good." He fixed Arthur with his most serious of stares. "So do you?" 

"Do I what?" 

"For god's sake." Eames raised an eyebrow. "Think we're in a rut?" 

Arthur considered this for a moment before answering. "Well. I suppose now you bring it up, I think we've fallen into a comfortable routine." 

"Arthur. We do exactly the same things every week. And I call you every day when I'm on my way past Sainsbury's to see if you want anything and you always ask for the same thing and we haven't had a surprise in months." 

"And on Thursdays we fuck." 

Eames glared. "That, darling, is exactly what I'm talking about. We need to shake this off, get back into the Arthur & Eames groove." 

Arthur snorted delicately at him. "Like that time you gave me a hand job on the tube in rush hour?" 

"Or that time you blew me off in the cupboard at the morgue." 

Arthur smiled fondly. "Mmm. You bit through your own finger trying not to scream." 

He still had the scar on his index finger. "I remember." 

Arthur nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his lower lip. "Okay, let's do it. Let's be spontaneous sexual beasts again." 

Eames tried his hardest to contain his glee, but couldn't stop the grin from creeping across his face. _Sex! Glorious, unexpected orgasms!_ "Excellent." 

"How does tomorrow work for you?" 

Rolling his eyes, Eames walked into the kitchen to make a start on dinner. "Oh, Arthur. You really need to learn the definition of 'spontaneous.'" 

\-------------------------------------------- 

The next night, Eames was watching the rugby when Arthur flicked off the TV. He stepped casually into Eames' eyeline, acting for all the world like he wasn't very obviously naked underneath his thin robe. "Hey handsome."

Eames gaped. "Arthur?"

"You want romance and seduction?" He leaned forward, hands on the headrest of the couch, either side of Eames' head. "I can give you seduction, _darling_."

There was a soft click and the dulcet tones of Marvin Gaye filled the room. Arthur tipped his face lower and regarded Eames through his eyelashes. "Take off your shirt."

Eames blanched as smooth hands stroked down his face, neck, torso, to the hemline of his shirt. "Arthur, darling. Not a good idea."

"Mmm. What are you talking about Eames?" Arthur dipped his voice lower. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted?"

"Oh, Arthur," Eames groaned as a finger slipped against his stomach, just above the waistband of his trousers. " _God yes._ But-"

"Excellent. Then shut up and take off your shirt." He dragged the offending item upwards as Eames struggled to remain upright on the couch. 

"No, really Arthur! You have to stop-"

Arthur only settled himself upon Eames' hips, throwing his shirt to the other side of the room. "Oh, really? I don't think I do, you know."

"No, Arthur, please. It's just I had-" The rest of his sentence was cut off by Arthur kissing him deeply, cradling his face carefully and grinding, so slowly in his lap. 

Suddenly, the sound of a loud expulsion of gas filled the room, followed closely by a particularly unpleasant smell. Arthur pulled back immediately and looked at him in horror.

"... curry with the boys and I'm feeling kind of gassy." Eames finished miserably as he sat back in the couch, deflated.

Arthur jumped up and stalked out of the room, tucking the robe tightly around him as he went. "Well, that's fucking romantic, isn't it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been forever! I'm sorry! But in my defence, I literally moved my life around the world, from Australia to the United Kingdom, so it's taken me a while to get settled! I'll try to update this much, MUCH more regularly now!
> 
> Part of the idea for this chapter was borrowed from a most fantastic Sherlock fic by Pennydreadful - [Five Times Sherlock and John Had Realistic Sex and One Time They Didn't](http://archiveofourown.org/works/158747) If you're not a Johnlock shipper, or even in the fandom, I still highly recommend you read this fic for the laughs.


	7. It's cold outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not for the first time, Arthur and Eames had found themselves in a sticky situation...

Not for the first time, Arthur and Eames had found themselves in a sticky situation. 

"Okay." Arthur paced around the small cabin, taking stock of everything that could be of use. "So this is going to be home for the next few days while we wait for the heat to die down. There is literally no heat in the cabin, and since it's the dead of winter, there's none outside either. We have a ratty blanket, a fire extinguisher that may or may not have been made and used during the Civil War, the clothes on our backs and three thin pillows."

Eames turned to face him with a look of shock. "Arthur, and I found that pack of marshmallows!"

"Which are _2 years old_ , Eames." Arthur gave the other man his most withering glare. "If you'd like to try eating them, go right ahead, but I value my internal organs."

Eames grinned, opened the packet and stuffed one into his mouth, earning an eyeroll and snort. "But you know what we do have?"

"What's that, Eames? And don't bring up the marshmallows again or I'll detach your testicles."

"Oh, Arthur, darling." Eames lowered his chin and waggled his eyebrows. "We've got body heat."

\----------------------------------------

"Your teeth are chattering."

"It's _cold_ , darling."

"Stop moving."

"Oh, god, we're not going to have this argument again are we?" Eames rolled his eyes as he tried to remain completely still where he was wrapped around Arthur. Which, of course, was everywhere. The two were huddled together on the floor, lying on top of two of the pillows and huddled underneath the small, ratty blanket. Wind rustled through cracks in the doors, and to Eames, on top and baring the brunt of the wind, each gust seemed to drop the internal temperature by another degree. He was actively trying to stop his teeth from chattering lest he piss off Arthur, when suddenly he found his freezing lips mashed against his teeth as Arthur surged forward. 

Eames grunted as he tried to push away, but still stay underneath the blankets. "Arthur, what are you doing?"

The younger man glared. "Your teeth are chattering, your fingers are freezing and I'm trying to find a way to warm us both up."

"Oh, yes, jam your face into mine then, that will help, won't it?"

"Sex, Eames. I was trying to initiate sex."

Eames arched an eyebrow. "You're usually so much better at making it sound appealing."

"Well, excuse me!" Arthur huffed and tried valiantly to turn his face away from Eames'. 

"Oh, pet." Eames purred, kissing Arthur with gentle pecks around his face. "I didn't mean to say it was unappealing."

"I'm cold too, you know." Arthur pouted, brow still furrowed in irritation. Eames pressed a kiss to the deep wrinkles there. 

"I know, sweetheart. Let's give your theory a try then, shall we?"

\----------------------------------------

"Mmmm." Eames groaned after, as he tucked his now-warm nose into Arthur's neck. "That was delightful."

"Yeah... and don't you feel warmer now?"

Eames huffed a laugh. "Arthur, I tell you that you're right all the time when we're at work-"

"Because I am."

"-So you don't need me to do it again after every time we have sex."

"Even though I was most definitely right."

"Git." Eames smiled fondly and pressed another kiss to the side of Arthur's neck. "Though you know the big issue we have now that you need to use your wonderful brain to solve?"

"What's that?"

"Would you rather get up and be cold right now, or wake up tomorrow stuck together, hm?"


	8. Forgot to buy a birthday present

“SURPRISE!"

The bellow of happy voices startled Arthur & Eames as they stepped inside their flat. The lights flicked on suddenly and both men froze where they were reaching for concealed weapons; Arthur in the secret pocket of his Dolce & Gabbana suit jacket, and Eames at the small of Arthur's back.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARTHUR!"

Arthur burst into a wide smile as he stepped through the door into the waiting arms of Ariadne, streamers from Yusuf’s popper flying over the two of them. “I have two questions for you: How did you get in here, and how did you even _know_ it’s my birthday? My passports are forged.”

“Getting in is my fault. Ariadne knows her way around a lock pick kit, and I was on hand with the security code.” Cobb scowled at them with slightly less frustration than he usually displayed, his kids jumping around behind him, batting at the balloons adorning the ceiling. “And as for the date, that’s Ariadne as well, though she won’t tell me how.”

“Tricks of the trade!” Ariadne smiled sweetly.

Arthur smiled. “You’re a good student. Even Eames’ hasn’t worked it out yet, you know.”

“Oh, of course I have, darling!” Eames scoffed. “I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise party.”

Arthur beamed at him as Ariadne shot Eames a look that said _looks like we have something to discuss._ “Anyway!” She exclaimed to the rest of the room. “Food! Kitchen! Partying! Music! Go!”

\--------------------------

“You really hadn’t figured out his birthday yet, had you?” Ariadne materialised beside Eames, who was hiding in the hallway and peeling the label off his beer. “You didn’t know about the party, because I didn’t tell you. I thought Arthur might have been able to work it out if you did.”

Eames narrowed his eyes at her and tugged her into the kitchen, further away from the revellers.

“Now listen,” he murmured, putting down his beer and leaning in close. “It’s not that I hadn’t tried figuring out his birthday. I thought I had! I found a passport, hidden very well, thank you very much, that has his _real name_ listed, and I assumed that it must be the actual document. I was already in the planning stages of my own surprise for his birthday, which I thought was in two months’ time!”

Eames stepped back and raked a hand through his short hair. “But now, I’m going to have to explain why there’s a custom built sniper rifle arriving in the mail in two months, and he’ll have beaten me at my own game once again.”

Stifling a laugh behind her hand, Ariadne nodded. “Oh, Eames. How have you been dating for 8 months and still haven’t had the conversation about real birthdays or middle names?”

“Well, that’s just not us, love. Now. Be a sweetheart and help me think of an emergency present that can be whacked together in an hour, hm?”

Smiling wickedly, Ariadne winked. “You know, I have the perfect idea…”

\--------------------------

Later in the evening, after all the party-goers had been shuffled,  Arthur was humming quietly to himself as he tied the last of the garbage bags.

“Eames?” He called up the stairs. “Can you give me a hand with the trash? I think it’s raining outside, but if you help we can make it in one trip.”

“In a bit, darling. But can you pop upstairs first?”

“No, I’d really rather finish the clean up before the rain gets heavier. It’s just a few seconds, Eames.”

“This really has to happen first. Come up.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and trudged upstairs. “This had better be important, Eames.” His eyes widened comically as he took in the sight of his partner standing in the centre of the bedroom, holding a box in front of his crotch and wearing not a stitch of clothing.

“Uh, Eames…” he stammered.

“Ta-dah!” Eames threw out one hand in exclamation, the other holding tightly to the bow-bedecked box. “Happy Birthday, darling! Hope you like it!”

Arthur just stared and Eames’ smile fell a bit.

“This obviously isn’t the _only_ thing I’m getting you, but… well sod it. The passport I found said your birthday was in two months, and I thought it was the real thing, but I guess you win again, which means that your real present isn’t coming until then and I’m sorry, I should be better at this but it’s _you_ and you just bamboozle me every time, so in the meantime I consulted Ariadne and she said this was a current ‘trend’ with Americans, and I thought it might be cute and a good laugh, and anyway-“

“Wait, wait, wait.” Arthur held up his hands to stop the flow of words. “Before you go on… you believed my forgery?”

Eames sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay. Now, does that box have a hole in the other side of it?”

Eames nodded.

“And have you put your dick into that hole?”

Another nod.  

“You got me your dick in a box. For my birthday. Dick. In a box.”

“…at least I know you’ll like it?” Eames shrugged and flicked a lopsided smile, the one he knew Arthur loved.

Arthur huffed a laugh and smiled, dimples appearing in smooth cheeks.  “You’re an idiot.” He said, stepping close and planting a kiss on Eames’ nose. “But I love you. So I’m going to open my present, right here and now, and then afterward, you’re going to take out the garbage, no matter what the weather is like. Deal?”

“Deal.”


End file.
